Two very different assaults on the senses

A
noticeable improvement over The Phantom
Menace, but paling in comparison to the original Star Wars trilogy, Attack of the Clones is a fun film
that does little but show off state-of-the-art special effects while filling in
the somewhat predictable holes in the story (wait...you mean Anakin is going to
be lured to the dark side?). There are a handful of big action sequences (the best
coming in the last reel), but the rest is bogged down by the romance and the
intricate politics that nobody enjoyed in Episode
I.

Clones
is set about 10 years after Menace,
and deals with the possible secession of several thousand solar systems from
the Federation. The overwhelmed Jedi Knights can't keep up with keeping the
peace, spurring talk about the need for a massive galactic army. As now-Senator
Padmé Amidala (Natalie Portman) flies to the capital for an important vote, her
ship is blown to bits on the landing pad. Obviously the target of an
assassination attempt, Amidala is assigned two Jedi protectors: Obi-Wan Kenobi
(Ewan McGregor) and Anakin Skywalker (Hayden Christensen).

Neither of the Jedis has seen
Amidala since the events depicted in Menace,
but that doesn't stop her and Anakin from getting all snuggly (they literally
roll around in the grass in one scene). They take a while to warm up to each
other, but we all know where this relationship is headed. More interesting is
the rapport between Anakin and mentor Obi-Wan: in addition to following the
student-becoming-the-master arc, it also shows the developing chinks in
Anakin's good-guy armor. Because he's the chosen one and potentially the
greatest Jedi ever, Anakin's powers have made him an arrogant, spoiled brat,
who constantly needs to be reeled in by Obi-Wan.

Anakin and Obi-Wan don't spend a lot
of time together in Clones. Instead,
the two are separated, with Obi-Wan investigating Amidala's attackers and
accidentally stumbling upon the creation of a clone army (which involves a
young Boba Fett and his dad, Jango), while Anakin escorts Amidala to Naboo and
eventually Tatooine in an attempt to protect her until the important vote takes
place. The few scenes the two Jedis share at the beginning of the film fall
flat; Obi-Wan saying "I hate it when he does that" and "You'll
be the death of me" isn't much better than Murtaugh grunting about being "too
old for this shit" in the Lethal
Weapon films.

On the plus side, just about
everything gets better as Clones
progresses (save the wooden acting), but I'd give away too many plot details if
I described specifically how it improves. The ending is an all-out action
spectacular; aside from being the highlight of the film (other than the strange
Gladiator scene, and a passage that
would be better served in the new Mario game), it's the only part that even
begins to capture the magic of the original Star
Wars pictures. The character development is a little better here than in Menace, and there isn't much of Jar Jar
Binks or other cutesy stuff (but still more than in, say, Lord of the Rings).

There are plenty of things to whine
about, as well. Clones begins slowly,
and it's not nearly as dark as the pre-release buzz seemed to indicate. The
dialogue is weak, and when there isn't anything exploding, the story really
drags. Then again, how much can you expect from a script co-written (with
director George Lucas) by The Scorpion
King's Jonathan Hales? There are a few unintentionally funny moments; for
example, near the end, Amidala falls off a speeding ship, hits the ground,
writhes around in pain like she's about to die, then hops to her feet as if
nothing ever happened.

Being both hopelessly single and a film critic, there are a
couple of things I wish the heavens would grant me. One is a screeching halt to
the career of Martin Lawrence, and the other is an attractive woman who will
show up on my doorstep and let me have my way with her once a week (or even
every other week --- I'm not too picky). In Patrice Chéreau's Intimacy
(Saturday, May 18, at the Dryden Theatre) that's just the far-fetched situation
in which the male lead finds himself (the girl part, not the Martin Lawrence
part). In true cinematic fashion, he blows it by looking the gift horse square
in the mouth.

The guy is Jay (Mark Rylance), the
overbearing manager of a trendy London pub, who has recently separated from his
wife and two young sons. When Intimacy
begins, Jay opens the door of his filthy, barren flat, looking for Claire
(Kerry Fox). Two minutes and about six words later, you're looking at Jay's
engorged love rocket. Two minutes after that, if you watch really closely,
you'll see Claire reveal that disappointed look I'm so used to seeing, before
she scrambles to put her clothes back on. And before you can unslack your jaw,
she's gone.

When the same thing happens a few
minutes later (although a week of screen time has passed), the pair again don’t
exchange any words before going at each other like angry wolves. It isn't until
then that Intimacy really launches
into its proper story. Jay follows Claire back home, to find out what she's all
about (he doesn't even know her name). When he tracks her down at a tiny theatre
in a pub basement (the helpful sign on the door reads "Toilets and
theatre"), Jay learns Claire has the female lead in a Tennessee Williams
play, and, more surprisingly, that she's married and has a young son. Jay has
trouble wrapping his mind around this discovery, as he assumed Claire was
miserably single like himself. He strikes up a friendship with her husband (Topsy-Turvy's Timothy Spall), and you
just know things are going to end badly.

Reminiscent of Last Tango in Paris --- Bernardo Bertolucci's English language
debut, as Intimacy is Chéreau's ---
the film is based on stories by Hanif Kureishi, the Oscar-nominated writer of My Beautiful Laundrette. There's not
much of a plot here, and like the similarly titled Romance (which showed about as much romance as Intimacy features intimacy), it's all about the graphically
portrayed sex. The one scene everyone will talk about shows Fox performing
fellatio on Rylance. As in for real. Having never been done before in a
legitimate film, this is a pretty big deal, and no doubt helped Fox win the
Silver Bear for best actress at last year's Berlin Fest (the film itself took
home the top award). But an authentic blow job doth not a good film necessarily
make.

The sex scenes are quite well done,
especially contrasted with the silky-smooth softcore porn of Unfaithful. There's no romantic music,
artistic lighting, or makeup to camouflage either actor’s unsightly
imperfections. It's a frighteningly realistic look at completely passionless
sex, and Fox and Rylance do a good job of making us uncomfortable as we watch.

For more of
Jon’s movie ramblings, visit his site, Planet Sick-Boy (www.sick-boy.com), or
listen to him on WBER’s Friday Morning Show.